


5 (+1) Times Bucky Was Already a Supersoldier

by chaya



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Drabble Collection, F/M, M/M, World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-07
Updated: 2014-05-07
Packaged: 2018-01-23 20:48:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1579067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaya/pseuds/chaya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erskine made it plain for Steve - the serum makes you stronger, faster, harder to kill, and it amplifies your existing qualities. Barnes, though, didn't get any such heads up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	5 (+1) Times Bucky Was Already a Supersoldier

**Author's Note:**

> Zola had already injected Bucky with at least SOME off-brand serum by the time Cap came and rescued him. Otherwise he wouldn't have survived the fall.
> 
> (This is for [thunderboltsortofapenny](http://thunderboltsortofapenny.tumblr.com/) on tumblr, who is responsible for getting me to write this, and now owes me sass in the form of crafted goods. Let it be known.)

1.

Nobody notices how much he eats, at first. He just got back from a prison camp and everyone's celebrating, so the meals keep coming, as many seconds as he wants. When he finally plunks himself down on the bedroll next to Steve's he looks at him, very seriously, and lets out the longest burp he can possibly manage. Steve looks at him in shock at first, but the second he breaks into helpless laughter is when Bucky knows that everything's going to turn out okay.

Later, when they start traveling off the roads and sleeping under trees, Barnes is starving, always, the rations never nearly enough. It's not a soldier's place to complain for more, though, so he shuts up and keeps moving.

2.

Barnes has been good at long-distance shots since the military put a gun in his hand. He did alright with the pistol, was never bad at it, but there was something about laying quiet, breathing deep, and waiting for the right moment that just came natural. He never knew why his hands didn't have the little tremors that everyone else's did, why only he could spot the flicker of movement off in the distance, the tell-tale misplaced shadow that made him reach for his rifle and tilt his head to the scope.

After Steve saves him, it's even easier. It's probably because he's got so much more to fight for, now, with his best friend being the one he's got to kill for. (And if he didn't feel guilty about it before, it's easy as breathing now.)

3\. 

When he gets shot he doesn't notice it, because he's running. He's running, and the building behind him is burning fast in a collapsing pile of embers and rubble, soot and thick smoke threatening to chase them down and choke them, and it's not until they're catching their breath an a quarter of an hour later that his boot feels wet. He unlaces it with grimy fingers, holding it up and tipping it back. He expects the dirty brown water of the trenches, but instead it's thick and black-red, coming down in ominous drops, smells a little like copper, and Dugan stops shit-talking long enough to notice and stare.

"I'm fine," Barnes says, not actually sure, and starts rolling up his pant leg. There's a gash along his calf and Steve shouts something, making the others jump to their feet and fetch everything they need. Falsworth uses his canteen to wash the dirt and muck away, make an assessment, and starts laughing before Dugan can even hand him the disinfectant.

"Poor chap's suffering from a paper cut of the worst sort," Falsworth proclaims, and holds up Barnes's leg by the ankle, making him tip over onto his back, to show the others the comically thin slice of leaking red that looks, even Stevey has to admit, pretty harmless.

4.

They find some friendly locals on the way to the second weapons cache this week and it turns out they’re not just crop farmers, they have _livestock_. Everyone’s eyebrows shoot up, hopeful for beef, pork, anything fresh really but scared to ask, and when the table’s set Bucky hears Dernier drop a quiet thanks to God. The root vegetables have seen better times, but there’s a small cut of steak on the corner of everyone’s plates. Steve thanks them profusely in awkward French, everyone else following suit, and they even make sure to hold still for grace before tucking in. These are good people. Bucky can’t pronounce their names right, but they don’t seem to care. They just want the war over. He can understand that.

They help out as much as they can afterwards, from chasing down an escaped hog (Dougan and Morita) to washing windows (Dernier) to forking bales of hay (Steve, Bucky, Falsworth, Jones). The family and farmhands are watching Steve with the pitchfork, bale after bale after bale, but Bucky and the other Commandos are used to it by now. Bucky doesn't even look up from his own side of the plot. Like everyone else, he doesn't notice his progress is much closer to Steve’s than to Jones’s or Falsworth’s. His arms and shoulders don’t start to burn, the muscles don’t start to shake and quiver with the weight, so he just keeps going, enjoying the mindlessness of the task at hand. The sun sets.

5.

His arms don’t start to burn until the moon's high up behind the clouds, until he’s got the daughter of the house propped up against the wall of the barn, his face buried deep in the crook of her neck. She smells sweet, like fields and fresh bread and a little bit of old perfume she might have gotten from her mother’s room. His fingers curl tight around her thighs, careful not to hurt her as he thrusts but still so fargone, his second round of what will be four. She’s got her teeth set tight against his shoulder, muffling the sweet little sounds she makes in time with his movements, and Bucky thinks to himself that he’s lucky, lucky that he’s still alive, lucky that when so many other men’s shellshock makes them too wound tight to even get it up, whatever’s wrong in his head at lets him do this, lets him go for longer, lets him enjoy this one good thing just a little bit longer, because he knows tomorrow they will continue northeast and then who knows after that, but he knows for sure he will never see her again. She smells so nice.

+1.

The fall is so, so, so long and Bucky keeps waiting to hit the ground, still reaching, keeps waiting for the crunch of his spine as the train gets smaller, Steve out of view for what feels like an eternity now but Bucky keeps reaching, keeps stretching his hand out as the white peaks rise above him on either side, higher and higher, sharp and unforgiving, shadowing out the sun as the wind rushes through his ears and


End file.
